The Break Free Trilogy (Book 3): Through The Frozen Dawn (19 page)

A beam of light circled on Emma's abdomen, tracing its way along her bloodstains.

She heard the shock in Patrick's voice when he spoke. "How in the hell-"

The gunshot surprised them all. Harris stood in the center of the square, over the bodies of his fellow Council members. Fire lit the end of the barrel as he pulled the trigger over and over again. Amidst the shouts and confusion, Emma felt Jack's hand find hers. He dragged her around Harris, through the square and into the woods. The crack of gunshot and bullets tearing through the trees echoed all around them. The camp woke to a black dawn, shouts echoed from across the grounds. Emma and Jack tore away, ignoring the brambles that caught on their skin and in their hair. Emma's breath came sharp and fast, pressure building and then searing in her lungs.

It wasn't me, it wasn't me, it wasn't me.

The words pound in her brain to the tune of her heartbeat. Her new injuries burned and throbbed in sync. She wasn't sure why it was so important, only that it was. It wasn't her that infected those men at the dorms. There were bird remains there, too. It was them, it wasn't Emma. It had been them all along.

"We have to go. Now," Jack said as soon as he caught sight of the cabin. Kaylee was already waiting for them in the doorway. At the sight of her sister and husband barreling through the trees she called for the others.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice breathy and low. She passed a bag first to Jack and then another to Emma.

"No time," Jack muttered, grabbing for her hand and shouldering the bag. "Let's go."

The morning began a slow unfurling, revealing the start of a frozen dawn. What started with birdsong had expanded. Now the darkness was fading, a pearly luminescence bleaching the horizon. The tip of the sun would graze the tree line soon. Emma could smell the difference, the shifting of the warmth through the air, the beginning of day. Already it was easier to seen, easier to avoid the tree trunks and footfalls as they crashed through the forest.

Andrew ran right next to Emma. His breath was measured though still somewhat ragged, a remnant from his collapsed lung that was still healing. Anna was behind, her panting breath even and rhythmic. They followed Jack and Kaylee, keeping their backs in sight even as they darted ahead through the trees. They all knew where they were going. The gate.

Emma knew it wasn't far. That was good. Already the staccato gunfire seemed further away from them. But still, every pop into the dawn had her jumping, her muscles tensed for the invasion of a lead bullet.

The gate loomed ahead of them, a giant in the dark. Emma could see nothing beyond. She yanked at the straps of her backpack, wincing as another volley of shots sounded off behind them, ricochetting into the trees and splintering the bark. It was hard to tell where the bullets were coming from, hard to tell which direction to avoid. But it didn't matter anyway, because the only direction they wanted was forward. The gate.

Jack paused at the edge of the trees, looking across the bare space to the little guard house in which Willy was always perched. Emma didn't know if he would be awake. She tried to still her breathing to see if she could hear him, leaning forward instinctively to try to catch a fragment of poetry on the air.

All was silent.

She crept forward, shaking Andrew's warning hand off her arm. She ignored Jack's whisper of caution. Again, it made sense if she were the first to go. The infected couldn't harm her. And if she died, better for them all anyway.

She almost didn't see him, curled up in the bottom of the guard shack. She was reaching forward, intending to slip the key to the padlock that held the massive doors chained together off the key rack. The rustling on the floor alerted her to his presence.

"Miss," he whispered in a strangled tone. "That's Willy's key."

"I know, Willy," Emma murmured, jumping again as another shot sounded. It was followed by two more. She could have sworn they were getting further away but these sounded very close. The sun broke over the distant horizon, slanting in through the uppermost window of the guard shack. Willy squinted against the burst of orange light.

"I have a poem," he started, using his elbows to prop himself into a sitting position. He grinned up at Emma, gaping holes where teeth should have been. "As I was going up the stair, I met a man who wasn't there-"

"I wasn't here," Emma interrupted, staring down at him. Willy stopped, staring at her speculatively. "Get it, Willy? It's me. I am the man who wasn't there."

His shaggy eyebrows rose spectacularly on his forehead and he grinned, a full blown, cheek crushing grin. He touched one finger to the side of his nose and nodded.

"The man who wasn't there," he murmured, not stopping Emma as she grabbed the keys and turned towards the gate. "He was a lady all this time!"

The echo of his laughter followed her into the cold dawn. She was in the shadow of the gate, light spilling around the massive sides, filtering through the ramshackle fence that stretched on either side, casting patterns of chain link and bars, snarls of wiring and the mismatched cracks between boards unto the snowy ground that surrounded them. Andrew and Jack were suddenly at her side as she twist her key in the lock and yanked the chain free. They pushed at the gate until it inched forward, pushing over the grate that covered the pit of infected bodies. The sun had woken them already and arms were stretching over hungry mouths, hands reaching between the frosty grates to snatch at air, the biters keening with hunger into the sunlight.

It was Kaylee who screamed. Emma drew her eyes from the pit, looking for the first time passed the infected to the fields beyond where a line of vehicles sat waiting, tailpipes spewing exhaust into the cold, morning air.

"They're here," Andrew muttered, frozen at the gate.

The Circle. They were laying in wait. Waiting for people to run screaming into the dawn, waiting for Patrick to open the gate. Emma wasn't sure which. Even as they stood there, Emma framed between the two ajar doors, one of the truck doors swung open and a man got out to stand next to his vehicle. She could see no identifiable features. He was a perfect silhouette, backlit by the rising sun.

A burst of gunfire sounded behind her and she trembled. She had been right, the shots were getting closer.

"Well, swing those open and let them through," a rough voice called out behind them. Emma spun around, padlock and key still in her hand. Patrick came out from behind a tree. His neck was red with blood but he spoke clearly enough. Whatever wound had been inflicted on him, it wasn't fatal.

"Don't!" croaked another voice. Harris, much worse for the wear but fighting through. "We will not, we will
not
, open that gate to whatever hoodlums you met along the road!"

"Hoodlums, Harris?" Patrick's voice was smooth and amused. "No, not hoodlums. Family."

"Lock the gate," Harris whispered, realization coming across his features. "Please. Do it now."

Emma froze in the crack of the giant doors. The lock and key felt heavy in her cold fingers. She didn't want this. None of them did. They wanted out, not to be sucked into the middle of this war.

"You see Harris?" Patrick laughed as Emma paused. "They don't want any part of this. Freedom, that's what they want. Not these stupid rules and morality policing. Freedom will alway win."

"It's not freedom you want, you've always been free to leave," Harris replied, addressing only Patrick. He was weakening, Emma could see the difficulty he was having drawing even breaths. "It's power."

Behind Harris, shrieks were rising that Emma recognized. Goosebumps rose on her arms and the faces of those she had shied away from, the people she tried to protect by keeping her distance, they flashed through her mind.

"Hey, you in there! Sounds like you could use some help!"

The voice from behind them was interlaced with revs from the engines, laughter low and nondescript echoed around them.

"They have perfect timing, don't you think?" Patrick asked, waiting Emma out. Faces spun through her memory, settling on Marco's. He was in there somewhere, unaware that Patrick was about to throw the whole camp into a maelstrom. This was exactly what they had wanted, Patrick and the rest of his men, they wanted the camp in chaos. They wanted the Circle waiting outside to be called in as heroes who could save the day. They wanted the extermination of anyone who wouldn't fall in line with them. That included Harris. And now Patrick knew that included Emma and her family.

She trusted Andrew and Jack to keep Patrick in their sights. Already, out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jack's arm, the muscles rigid and taunt, his fingers wrapped precisely around the handle of his gun. Beyond Harris, people were moving closer. She couldn't tell if they were infected or not, only that they were running, coming at the group fast. Emma turned, lock in hand, to snake the chain around the door handles and secure the lock between two chains. She wasn't sure it would do much good anyway, other than keeping the Circle's large vehicles out from the center of camp. If it was a battle on foot, maybe the people of the New North America, the people who had no idea one of their own was leading them to war, would stand a chance. Marco would stand a chance. It was the least she could do for them.

"That was a poor decision," Patrick whispered. Still, he was smiling, hard and cold but it was there. His hand reached behind him, quick as ever. Jack pulled back his trigger. He missed. Emma saw a chunk of pine explode where Jack's bullet lodged as Patrick melted back into the trees. Everyone scattered. Emma threw her body down in the snow, expecting a volley of bullets. Instead, out of the trees, a burst of smoky light rose. It wavered as it climbed, higher and higher until it exploded, a red flare against the brilliant dawn.

She could hear the murmurs of surprise and fear from the group of people who were closing in on them. Her head rose from the ground, wiping the melting snow from her face. The cuts from that grenade burned but fear left her mind no room to process that. The faces she had been picturing were slowly gathering in the empty spaces by the gate, looking from Harris, crouched behind a nearby barrel, to Emma and the rest on the ground. Mouths hung open, mouthing words of confusion. She could hear them, the questions, the confusion.

The next thing Emma saw was half a dozen gleaming metal projectiles, thrown high over the fence and landing, scattering in the snow among the group, the fuses hanging from the lips already hissing.

K
aylee recognized
the grenades as they flew through the air. Smoke curled up lazily from the fuses that hissed and spit as they rolled through the snow. Everyone knew enough to hide, familiar enough with the concept of bombs to duck.

No one, Kaylee included, knew what chaos would follow.

Jack yanked Kaylee and Anna behind a clump of trees. Kaylee saw her sister cover Andrew with the length of her body. It looked wrong, backwards, for her petite sister to be covering Andrew. But she flung her body over his, her arms covering his head and face. The bombs went off, one by one, with pops and bursts. Not large enough to take out trees or buildings, but scattering shrapnel through the crowds.

Screams sounded, strangling the noise of birdsong and the rustle of woodland creatures. Kaylee could hear the faded laughter from outside the gate. She flinched as blood bloomed in the snow by Emma, not a lot, but enough to be visible on the trampled snow.

"They're filled with contagion," Jack whispered, the horror clear in his tone. "Those grenades, everyone hit will get infected."

Dull horror washed over Kaylee. She couldn't take her eyes off her sister, understanding now why she had launched herself over Andrew.

"The Council-" Anna started. Jack cut her off.

"Dead. They threw one in the cabin."

Harris. Kaylee's eyes left her sister, stirring over Andrew's still body, to search for Harris. He survived the cabin, survived that first bomb. He didn't survive the next.

At least a dozen people were twitching in the snow, their friends and neighbors leaning over them, confused. From their copse in the trees, Kaylee could see as ragged breaths changed to growls. Harris stood first, his gait unsteady. He snarled at a nearby man, lunging for him and tearing into his neck with his teeth.

People scattered as the chaos took hold. Screams rent the air. Just as the body of the man Harris was tearing apart hit the snowy ground, flecking the beaten down white with bits of red, men started pulling at the gate from the outside. A bolt cutter was slipped through and was working at the chain. Emma stood and ran towards Kaylee, followed by Andrew. Her face had been hit, but only just, a thin scratch shone bright red across her cheekbone. Otherwise, they both seemed fine.

Shots were fired, the bursts of noise mingled with the groans and snarls. Kaylee followed the pressure of Jack's hand on hers, urging her towards the square. People were sprinting across in every direction, firing guns at random.

Heat flared over her face, fear and adrenaline washing out every other emotion, leaving only the urge to flee, to run, to find somewhere, anywhere safe. The square was busy, too busy, people everywhere, blood running in a small, warm river from a nearby body. Two infected people tearing at the flesh, the lush, hot sounds of their carnage seeming loud even in the tumult.

Kaylee was ahead, her eyes on Jack and the building he was darting for. The mess hall was so close, yet the bodies between them and it made it feel far away. It was the gurgled scream that caused her to stop, snow flying as her boots skidded across the frozen earth.

"Emma!" Andrew shouted. Kaylee turned and saw her friend launch himself through the air, colliding with a bloody body. They rolled together in the snow, grunts and teeth snapping. Jack ran towards them as Kaylee raced for her sister. Emma was on her back, her arm up protectively over her face. Kaylee could see the bright red staining on Emma's hand and knew the man had bit her. Beneath the gurgling blood, an impression of teeth could be seen, torn into her skin.

"Get up," Kaylee hissed, tugging Emma to her feet. The younger girl looked dazed, but her eyes stayed clear. She gripped her sister's arm steadily with her good hand, bringing the sleeve of her coat down to cover her new wound. Anna ran up behind them, grabbing Emma under the elbow. They half-dragged her towards the mess hall, the door hanging ajar, as Emma twisted around, screaming for Andrew.

Kaylee and Anna pulled her through the mess hall door, slamming it shut behind them. Startled whimpers sounded from the corner of the rectangular room, followed by masculine shushing. Kaylee sucked in a breath, peering into the darkened corners.

The door slammed into Kaylee's back and she lurched forward. Jack and Andrew burst through and Emma struggled out of Anna's grip to fling herself at Andrew.

He wrapped his arms around her. "Stop, don't touch me," she murmured.

Jack stepped next to Kaylee, his fingers seeking hers. She returned the firm pressure, signaling that she was fine. Anna breathed softly next to her, her body tense. Another round of gunshots sounded in the square and instinctively, everyone ducked.

"Are you bit?"

The voice was hard and familiar from the distant corner. Emma disentangled herself from Andrew, Kaylee could see her relieved gaze shoot across the darkened space.

"Marco?"

The man in question stepped from the shadows, eyeing the group suspiciously. He spoke only to Emma. "Corey said he saw you. That you were infected. He said it was you all along."

"Where is Corey now?" Jack asked, his fingers tightening on the grip of his gun.

"Dead," Marco answered, his gaze sweeping through them. "But not before he could warn the rest of us."

"Warn you of what?" Emma asked in a whisper.

"That you were the living infected. That you were the reason this all broke out, every time. It was you."

"It wasn't-" Emma started. Marco cut her off.

"You didn't tell us, not any of us. And all this time, every time someone was killed, you just watched."

"Didn't you see those grenades? It wasn't her," Jack said firmly. He stepped forward into the space and Marco raised his gun. "We just want to sneak out the back. It's crazy in the square, we can't go back that way-"

"Maybe you should, maybe I should send you all back to the hell you created," he said, his voice rising in volume. "These people didn't deserve this!"

"Marco, I'm not-"

"She's covered in blood," someone whispered. Even with the pandemonium going on outside and throughout the square, the whisper carried in the enclosed space. Others started.

"-scratched, there on her cheek-"

"-dripping everywhere-"

"-what happened to her hand?"

Kaylee could see the slow drip, drip of warm, dark blood on the scuffed hardwood floor. Emma's hand hung still at her side, the slow trickle of blood splashing at her feet. She could hardly bring attention to it, wrap the bite, when everyone was staring at her. So she stayed still, quietly watching the rising storm in front of her as Kaylee was, both understanding they would have to go through it to survive.

"It's true, isn't it?" Marco asked in a low whisper. "You
are
infected. It was you."

"She is
not
infected," Andrew snarled.

"We just want to leave," Jack added, not lowering his gun.

"Show me her hand," Marco countered.

The response was immediate, Kaylee, Anna, and Jack moved forward, forming a wall between the waiting crowd and Emma. Andrew moved beside Emma, pushing her slightly behind his body. Kaylee could just see him from the corner of her eye, stoic and angry, tension rolling off every muscle in his body. Jack stood firmly in the center, slowly shaking his head.

The crowd across the mess hall broke out in angry whispers that rose like waves, spitting horrible truths across the space.

"She's getting blood everywhere, shoot her Marco!"

"She'll get us all killed. If Patrick finds us with her-"

"What are you waiting for? We let infected people live among us now?"

The hissing was angry and scared, mostly women, Kaylee noticed. She recognized the bitter tones of Jan and Samantha, huddled with the mob.

"She's not infected," Andrew roared. "She's immune!"

The mob broke, several of the women surged forward, pushing passed the hesitant Marco and lunging forward with poles and pieces of broken furniture. Jack didn't pull the trigger, even as Jan swung a broken table leg at him. It slammed into his raised forearm and he grunted, bringing his boot up to her to kick her back. Women were scratching and trying to push passed Kaylee and Anna and she strained, pushing back but knowing it was fruitless. They were outnumbered, they would be overrun. Her sister would be torn to pieces. Kaylee looked wildly around, even as someone raked nails down her face and reached behind her, grasping air but reaching for Emma. Andrew wasn't helping. Kaylee saw his body turn, spinning on the spot and pushing Emma back into the solid wall behind them.

Andrew moved into Emma and she stumbled, falling against the wall. He didn't hesitate, his hands wrapped around her arms, pinning her back. She went to protest, her mouth hanging open, but he cut her off. He pressed his lips to hers and her whole body spasmed. Emma scrambled against his hold, struggling to wrench her mouth away but he stepped closer, pinning her to the wall with his body as his hands sought her face, anchoring her mouth to his.

The mob froze, several women cried out. Everyone spun, both Marco and Jack pointing their guns to the corner where Andrew towered over Emma. Even from where she stood, locked frozen in shock and fear, Kaylee could hear her sister's defeated whimper.

And then her gasp. Kaylee watched as their combined lips smeared red with blood from the bite Andrew delivered to Emma's mouth. Tears spilled from her sisters clenched eyes.

Andrew pulled back slowly, his eyes locked on Emma. Everyone was silent, nothing but heavy breathing and the muffled sounds of groaning and gunfire from the square. "You are not infected," Andrew whispered. A sob broke through from Emma.

"Why, why did you do that?" she said, her voice breaking. He was still pinning her to the wall and she struggled to bring her hands up, stroking the side of his face and using her thumb to wipe the smear of her blood from his lip.

"You are not infected," he whispered again, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to hers.

Jack hadn't taken his eyes from Andrew's frame, his gun out, his arm tense. Marco looked confused and nervous, even as the rest of the women slowly backed away. Seconds passed, Andrew kept repeating, over and over, "You are not infected," as tears streaked Emma's face. At first the mantra was slow, reverent, like a prayer. But as the seconds stretched, as Andrew stood tall and straight and still, his cadence shifted and the words became triumphant.

"You are not infected," he said, smiling now. Emma shook her head in disbelief. Her lips, still red, parting in wonder.

"It could just be slow, you could-" she whispered. He cut her off, kissing her again. Her arms came around him as he moved forward and Kaylee could see the tentative movement of her mouth against his. When he broke away this time, he was grinning, his eyes lighting as he watched her.

"You are not infected." He said it slowly, his gaze soft and tender. "Immune, not infected."

"So, she was bit?" Marco asked in wonder. No one answered.

"Maybe
you're
just immune," Emma continued, her breathing picking up again. "They're right. I could be a danger, maybe you're just-"

Kaylee moved forward now, shaking Jack's warning hand off her arm. She grabbed her sister from Andrew's hold, caught her jaw between both hands, and kissed her right on the mouth. Tension saturated the group behind them, voyeurs to the fear. Emma cried out as Kaylee released her. Kaylee turned towards Andrew with a grin, her tongue darting out, tasting the blood from her sister's wounded mouth.

"Immune. Not infected," she said through a smile. She held her hands out in front of her. Andrew did the same. Both were steady, no shaking.

Emma's breath was fast, panicky as she watched her sister and Andrew. The seconds stretched. The women all drifted back, confused and uncertain but no longer trying to kill anyone. Gunfire from the square was present, but sporadic, usually preceded by guttural moans and cries.

Emma let out a shaky laugh through her tears, stopping to wipe the remaining blood from her lips. She finally nodded, smiling up at Andrew. "You're an idiot."

"And you're a stubborn pain in my ass."

"Corey was so sure," Marco whispered. His eyes were locked on Emma, his brow furrowed. "He swore that's how the infection got in."

"It was Patrick," Jack explained in a rush. "It's been him for a long time. Him and his brother, Michael."

"Mike?" Marco asked in a horrified rush. "No, Mike was kicked out, ages ago."

Jack explained in a rushed whisper, told the huddled group the short version. Some didn't seem all that surprised and it made Kaylee wonder, how many insane groups had they all belonged to before this?

Kaylee and the rest had only had each other at the start of this insane world. They were family already, sisters, daughters, sons, fathers. Anna had fit in so naturally, an older sister, so non-confrontational with her textbooks and desire to heal. But it wasn't like that everywhere. The Mill, the Circle, now here. Power and struggles, using starvation, knowledge, even the infection to further their own status, hedge their bets. It was horrifying and sad, and a truer loss of humanity than the infection itself could ever be.

"We're leaving," Jack concluded. "Out the back and over a fence. Any of you are welcome to come with us."

It should have surprised Kaylee when only a handful decided to, but then again, maybe she should have expected it.